A house that does not have one worn, comfy chair in it is soulless.

Sarton contrasts a merely well-appointed house with a lived-in home. The “worn, comfy chair” stands for use, intimacy, and the marks of daily life—evidence that someone rests there, reads, thinks, or welcomes others. Calling a chair “worn” reframes wear as a virtue: it signals continuity, habit, and affection rather than neglect. The line also gently critiques perfectionism in domestic aesthetics; a pristine, showroom-like interior may look impressive but can feel emotionally vacant. In Sarton's sensibility—attentive to solitude, hospitality, and the inner life—comfort becomes a moral and spiritual category: a home needs at least one place that invites unguarded presence.